


Honey Whiskey

by enkiduu



Series: Mementos of the Heart [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Assassins & Hitmen, Dubious Morality, Kinda Dark, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Serial Killers, Spies & Secret Agents, this is a mix of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 00:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10910535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkiduu/pseuds/enkiduu
Summary: "I'm going to catch you," Arthur promises.I think I might let you,Merlin thinks, burying his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck.Just to see if you'd let me go.





	Honey Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pelydryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pelydryn/gifts), [Michaelssw0rd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaelssw0rd/gifts).



> Thanks, Katie and Tee, for looking over this and being WONDERFUL as per usual. You two are seriously awesome, thank you for being my friends <3 since it's fun, have a gift! (A morally dubious gift, because we all know those are the best... *insert devil emoji*) 
> 
> Day 2:  
> Path I - Artefacts and Objects  
> Path II - Watching You  
> Path III - Emotion/Mood: Enraged

_“Wait, no, Merlin—”_

Bang.

***

There are two roles in the game: the hunter and the prey. One who runs after, one who runs from. One who seeks, never letting go, and one who steals, never caught. That’s the law, and how the law deals with thieves like Merlin.

But as much as Arthur might've once followed the law, he plays by different rules now. This is their game, nobody else’s. It’s not just a chase, it’s a dance, and they’re always circling each other, watching each other’s every move. 

“I'm going to catch you,” Arthur always promises, as if he needs any more proof that Merlin is Emrys. And it’s not like he hasn’t killed before, just like Emrys. The only difference is Arthur has a license to kill.

Artefacts aren't the only things Emrys steals, not anymore. He also steals life from those who (will) bring death, and that often coincides with the people Arthur’s supposed to protect. Merlin wonders if Arthur hasn’t killed him yet because he secretly agrees with Merlin on who needs to die.

It’s wishful thinking. 

(Merlin wonders when Arthur won't agree. Soon, he knows it’ll be soon.) 

“You can try,” Merlin answers, kissing Arthur and tasting honey whiskey on his tongue, “but I'm not Emrys.” 

Emrys always laughs when he wins—

—Merlin always cries.

***

Officially, this is how it begins—gunshots in Prague, a bonfire, one wrecked Aston Martin, and a stolen artefact worth millions: the Diamond of the Day, they call it, that’s been passed on for eons, worn by legends in paintings and those who wish to be immortalised as such.

Nobody deserves that. Emrys knows, because he sees all the good and evil everyone will ever do in their lifetime, sees their fate, and he’s the only one who can change anything. 

He does what he can. It’s never enough.

***

It’s been only two weeks since their paths last crossed. Merlin isn’t going to admit to that, wants to keep Arthur this close for awhile longer, but he won’t deny it either. He doesn’t want to.

Each time after a crime, Arthur appears at Merlin’s new flat, wherever that is. Never with enough proof to condemn, but enough coincidences for Arthur to know. He’s impossibly brilliant. 

“Arthur,” Merlin greets. “What a pleasant surprise to see you here.” 

“Emrys,” Arthur says civilly, which means he’s emotional. When he feels anything, he always starts by trying to hide it. 

“I see you still think I'm James Bond.” Merlin smiles, running a hand through his hair. He’s just taken a shower so it’s still wet, cold droplets clinging to the curled ends. His black T-shirt hugs his clavicle loosely. 

“Ridiculous. Since when have I thought you James Bond?” Arthur asks with a faint frown. “That’d make me the villain.” 

“Aren't you?” Merlin asks. He smiles suggestively, pitches his voice low. “Always watching me, chasing me around.”

“Only the guilty run,” Arthur says pointedly. 

“Ah. Is that why you run after me?” Merlin teases, and smiles delightedly when Arthur glares. He heads back into his flat, leaving the door wide open. “So, what’re you here for this time?”

“Emrys killed again.” Arthur’s voice is clipped. “A corrupt politician.” 

Merlin smiles, just a little, glad Arthur knows the politician had been corrupt. Does it make a difference? “I gave you my number,” he says. “You could've called.” 

Arthur scoffs like the idea disgusts him. It stings. “Let’s say you actually gave me a real number,” he says. “You expect us to go on a date?” 

“Sure, Arthur,” Merlin says cheerily, otherwise he might break. “Let’s go. I know a restaurant.” 

“We are not going on a date, Merlin.” Arthur looks around, taking in every detail of Merlin’s new flat, everything Merlin offers of himself, nothing Arthur will believe. 

Merlin hates waiting for what he knows will come. That’s why he kills. To prevent it. 

“I’m going to catch you,” Arthur says, as he always does. After they fuck, a part of him is always enraged, the part that can’t quite forgive himself for such indulgence. 

It's always a promise, a sort of vow. Merlin usually finds it almost romantic, but it sounds strained in a different way today. Sadder. Tired. Well, whose fault is that? Merlin scowls a little spitefully, swallows down bullets. 

Merlin’s heart aches and some of that bitter sadness he's learned over the years seeps through into his expression. _I think I might let you,_ he thinks, burying his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck. _Just to see if you'd let me go._

Merlin wants to laugh but the sound gets stuck in his throat. _Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa._ “Let’s say I really was—”

Arthur frowns. “Is that a confession?” he cuts in, and the words cut like the knife Arthur never bears to raise to Merlin’s throat. 

“—this Emrys you're chasing,” he continues, ignoring Arthur. “Would you let me go?” 

There's a long moment of silence. It hangs over them like a guillotine. No—a guillotine is much too quick and clean an execution. Merlin feels dirty, sometimes, with all this red he won't be able to wash off. 

Merlin hates waiting, hates waiting for what he knows won't come. 

“Would you want me to?” Arthur asks, lips thinning. For a terrifying moment, Merlin thinks Arthur might ask him to change, to stop. Maybe he'll offer salvation and sanctuary.

Maybe he's selfish too, but not selfish enough, because he doesn’t break the illusion.

Merlin kisses him. 

Next time Arthur sees him, it’s his face on a file with an order to kill. 

(Merlin took away that choice for both of them, but with them being who they are, it really wasn’t much of a choice to begin with.)

***

Unofficially, this is how it ends—a bar in London long before Prague, a glass of honey whiskey, and sex.

Arthur thinks it’s coincidence, thinks all of this weakness is his fault, thinks he could’ve prevented Emrys, but there is no such thing as coincidence. 

They’ve been waiting for each other their whole lives, but Merlin will never tell him that. He’ll never tell him why Emrys exists in the first place: because he knows one of the people he kills will be Arthur’s bane and just doesn’t know who. 

Emrys might be preventing evil, but from the beginning, it’s only ever been because he’s selfish and wants to be close to _good_ for once, wants to save that good from being ruined. 

It hurts to see what evil—the only evil—Arthur will do. 

It hurts to watch Arthur’s eyes over him and see himself looking back.

***

(Once, he considers stopping. He wants to stop, but he doesn’t know how, doesn’t think he can anymore, because somewhere along the line, Emrys has stopped killing according to what evil other people will do. Rather, he kills based on what evil he sees himself doing.

Merlin doesn’t want to know if Emrys is right to kill anymore. He doesn’t want to know if he ever was. 

Once. He considers stopping just the once, because that might mean Arthur’s ruin, and he can’t have that, even if he can’t have Arthur. 

Merlin does what he can. Even if it’s too much.)

***

_Bang._

“Ow,” Arthur says later, grimacing. “That is so bad for the ears.”

“Oh, shut up,” Merlin says, working on stitching Arthur back up, because how can Arthur worry about his hearing when he’s been shot? “I just saved your life.”

“That's gonna be a lot of paperwork for me,” Arthur mutters. “My dear uncle betraying us.” Then he blinks. “So you did. Why?” he asks. “You can’t possibly care if I die.” 

“Of course I do.” Merlin blinks a few times. It’s all a little blurry, because oh. Is that what Arthur thinks?

“Oh.” Arthur stares at him with a calculating gaze, but the math must not work out because his expression crumples into agony and anger. “You're always so blasé. You treat it all like a game. I never know if you care or if you're just ruining me.” He grits his teeth. “Am I just letting myself be played, Merlin?”

Merlin is surprised by how much that bloody hurts. “You think I'm just baiting you to fall in love?” he asks, the words tearing out of his throat like jagged shards of diamonds. “I’m not.”

Arthur exhales heavily, but something about him seems lighter, softened by relief. Or maybe that’s just despair. “Go. The other agents are coming. They’ll see you.” Merlin doesn’t move, scared he’ll never see Arthur again (more scared by what he’ll do to see Arthur again, because even hatred is better than nothing at all). “ _Leave_ ,” Arthur snaps, and it sounds too much like a plea. 

_Oh_ , Merlin thinks, unable to let go. _You’ve been the thief all along._

***

Soon, Merlin will call; soon, Arthur will answer.

“Merlin,” he will say, and maybe he’s known that Merlin gave him his real number after all. Merlin will wonder why Arthur never called or traced his location. Merlin will wonder if he ever did. 

“It’d be fitting to have it end where it began, don’t you think?” Merlin will ask, watching how the moonlight will dance on the diamond ring in his hands. _This,_ he will think, this _is a confession._

Arthur won’t ask Merlin why he’s still here, why he hasn’t changed names and fled to the Bahamas, why he’s such an idiot. He won’t tell him to leave, like he always does when he says _I’m going to catch you,_ and Merlin won’t say _you already have._

“I know a restaurant,” Arthur will say instead—

—and finally, Merlin will laugh.

***

He tastes like honey whiskey. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was so fun to write, omg. Title is from the song Honey Whiskey by Nothing But Thieves. Great song, helped inspire this, go check it out!
> 
> (btw oops, ahaha, if anyone saw the previous Merlin Memory Month thing I wrote in a ficlet collection: I feel like that made tagging awkward, so I changed it to a series)


End file.
